The Clarity of Creation





           The Clarity of Creation poem stories
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maia333
maia333 Poetry is my tonic, my vice, my voice.
Autoplay OFF   •   3 months ago
Needing some inspiration.

The Clarity of Creation

For months, I have longed to bathe in the salvation of poetry, to cast a connection to the world through the page.

I used to BE poetry. I used to dive into the open waters of imagination, splashing and spraying words, page upon page, in tsunamis of black ink.

But the portal of my imagination is paused; thoughts dissolving in a melancholic ether.

But poetry is a place with no bounds; unconstrained by dimension, untethered by gravity, and impermeable of time.

Free from the burdens of flesh, yet steeped in the heart.

A poem tucks in to rest what rattles in the mind on sleepless nights.

Releasing desires unspoken, that lurk at the base of your soul quivering to enter the world.

I want to place a finger on the pulse of creativity, introspection, examination,

to see the small and unseen, to aim a magnifying glass toward myself,

and glide above the landscapes of thought with a birdseye view of humanity.

I long to hold creativity in the palm of my hands, as creativity holds the key to compassion;

braiding the past over tomorrow, and under today,

untying the knots of half-sung stories, and casting a line across cultures to bridge invisible divides.

I feel in the dark for the soft shapes of connection, and turn from the sharpness of division.

From my fingertips to the page, I will for the waters to flow once again.

To cast out a net— spanning the breadth of humanity.

I long to rise out from the ether of mental stagnation,

I long to rise out from the ether of mental stagnation, and swim up to the clarity of artistic creation.

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